


Misfit Toys

by rebelmeg



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Art, Christmas, Gen, The Avengers are Toys, Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 09:46:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17077982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelmeg/pseuds/rebelmeg
Summary: There is a shelf in the toy shop full of misfit toys that just... don't fit.  Broken, or scary, or not good enough.  And they wait and watch, hoping that someday they will have a child to go home with.*Art by Araydre embedded*





	Misfit Toys

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I'm doing dishes while thinking about the Island of Misfit Toys from Rudolph. I don't even know. This just kind of... fell out of my brain, so here you go. 
> 
> Many thanks to [justanotherpipedream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanotherpipedream) and [sleepoverwork](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepoverwork) for being my wonderful betas!
> 
> UPDATE: [ARAYDRE](https://archiveofourown.org/users/araydre) MADE [THE BEAUTIFUL ART](http://araydre.tumblr.com/post/181276560947/for-rebelmeg-s-lovely-story-misfit-toys-3) FOR THIS FIC!

Tony was a toy robot, one of the most wonderful and amazing robot toys ever made. His lights twinkled brighter, his circuits fired faster, and his gears turned more cleverly than all the other robot toys in the toy store.

But Tony’s maker was never satisfied. Tony was never good enough, and so a large discount sticker was placed on his chest, and he was put on the shelf that all the toys feared.

The shelf for the misfits.

Tony was not alone there. The shelf had many misfits.

Natasha was a beautiful porcelain doll, with red hair, pale skin, and a dress made of soft black lace. But while Natasha was beautiful, she was also a little bit scary. Her smile was too red, too sharp, and her eyes were far too cold. She wasn’t like the other dolls, and so she had been moved away from them, to the shelf with the other misfits.

Clint was a broken acrobat toy, with a tiny bow and arrow in his hands. He had been stepped on and broken by a careless child, no longer able to do flips and twists on his little stand, with dings and dents all over his painted body. He sat next to Natasha on the shelf, unafraid of her too-red smile and eyes that were cold, and they kept each other company.

Steve was a wind-up toy soldier that never stopped marching. He had been wound too tight once, something inside broke, and now he never stopped. His wind-up key kept turning around, and his legs and arms kept swinging, even at night when the store was dark. He hung from the ceiling by a string tied around his waist, marching and marching in midair, going nowhere and never stopping.

Thor was an old, old toy, a little warrior made of painted metal that had been bright when he was new, but was faded now with age and chipped in places. His hair had once been a bright yellow gold, with sky blue eyes and a glittering silver hammer in his hand. Now, his hair was tinged bronze with age, his faded eyes were the dusky blue of a twilight sky, and his hammer that had once glittered in the light now just glinted dully.

Bruce was a toy called a jack-in-the-box, which he didn’t think made sense at all. What lived inside him, in the box, wasn’t called Jack. But it was scary. Bruce played music, a tinkling tune that made children smile, but then something would happen. The thing inside him would come out, and Bruce knew it was scary because it made the children jump and cry. 

They were all there together, on the misfit shelf in the big toy shop, surrounded by perfect toys in bright packages that were carefully arranged on neat, clean shelves. The misfits’ shelf was old and dusty, rusted in places, and it rattled whenever the door at the front of the store was opened. People didn’t come by their shelf very often, and they never looked at the misfit toys with happy faces.

The misfits were broken. They were unwanted. They were unloved and hidden away at the back of the shop, away from the new and perfect toys that always seemed to find a home as soon as they were put on the shelves. The misfits… just didn’t fit.

But still they hoped.

* * *

It was getting close to Christmas. The toys knew this because of the lights in the widows, the wreath on the door, and the garlands strung along the polished wood counter by the cash register that rang brightly when it opened.

Then one snowy afternoon, a little boy named Phil came into the toy shop. And he went directly for the misfit toys at the back of the shop.

The toys remembered him. They had seen him before. Phil loved the toy soldiers. He looked at them, lovingly ran his small fingers over their bright painted uniforms, held them carefully, and sometimes he would even take one home with him. Steve in particular always noticed this little boy. Noticed the way he never hurt any of the toys, handled them gently, and looked so happy every time he took a new one home. It made Steve, poor endlessly marching Steve, strung on his string from the ceiling, feel hollow inside, and not just because he was empty inside his little metal chest.

Today there were melting snowflakes on Phil’s hair, on his shoulders and arms, and when he got to the back of the shop and stood in front of the shelves of misfit toys… he turned his little face upward, and looked right at Steve. He saw that soldier that never stopped, and took him home, and loved him. Even as years passed, and the soldier finally learned how to stop marching, Phil still loved his toy soldier.

* * *

It wasn’t the same in the toy store without Steve. It seemed so quiet without the constant mechanical sounds of his marching, and the other misfit toys missed him, even though they were happy, and even a little bit jealous, that he had found a home.

They were so busy missing Steve, looking at the string that still hung from the ceiling, that they didn’t see the little girl until she was right in front of them.

Her name was Valkyrie, and she had dark curly hair and solemn dark eyes that looked at each of the misfit toys in turn. And then they rested on Bruce.

With small, careful hands, she lifted Bruce from the shelf, cradling his box in her arms, and though Bruce dreaded it, she began to turn the crank that played the music.

Bruce waited, hating the cheerful tune, hating the little jump that Valkyrie made when the thing inside him burst out.

He waited more, expecting her to cry, to shove him back on the shelf, to run away.

But instead… she laughed.

A small laugh, a giggle that sounded like angels, and then she closed the scary thing back inside Bruce’s box, and turned the handle again. And when it happened, when the scary thing jumped out, she giggled again.

Bruce went home with Valkyrie that day, and no matter how many times she turned the crank on his box, she was never afraid of whatever it was that came out. She always laughed and smiled, and did it again, and Bruce had never actually had a friend before.

* * *

It felt like their shelf was bigger without Steve and Bruce. There was more room to feel lonely, more space for dust to collect, and the remaining misfit toys felt sadder at being left behind.

It was nearly nighttime when Nick came to the store. He had only one eye, and dark skin, and he got bullied for both of those things. He wandered through the store, looking at the toys longingly, but never touching, keeping his hands in his pockets that made little sounds as he walked.

He went past the misfit toys twice, not sparing them a glance, but then finally, when there were only a few minutes left before the shopkeeper closed the store… he looked up.

Nick had never seen a doll like Natasha. Her lips were too red, almost bloody, and her cheeks were too pale, and her eyes weren’t warm or soft at all. But she was pretty, in a different way from his sister’s dolls and the other dolls in the store, and when Nick saw her sitting there, not allowed to be by the other dolls… it made something in his chest hurt.

He reached for her, his little hands that were scraped and bruised holding her gently as lifted her from the shelf. He was going to take her home. He had enough pennies in his pocket, and he was going to take care of her.

* * *

When Nick lifted Natasha off the misfit shelf, a ragged, broken little acrobat toy named Clint was tangled in Natasha’s black lace skirt. The tiny arrow in the boy’s hand was snagged in the doll’s skirt, and the toy clung to the doll like it didn’t want to let go.

Nick knew what that felt like. He set Natasha back on the shelf, and straightened Clint next to her, looking at the little price tag stickers on the two misfit toys.

And then he counted all the coins in his pocket.

Clint and Natasha went home with Nick that day. He had spent every single penny he had, even the ones he had been saving for candy, but he wasn’t sad. He had two new toys, a beautiful and scary doll, and a broken acrobat archer. He could fix the archer, and he liked that his doll was scary. If his sister didn’t like her, Nick would keep her anyway. 

Natasha and Clint had to stay together. That was important. Everyone needed someone, even toys.

* * *

Two metal toys were all that was left on the misfit shelf. Christmas came closer, crowds came into the toy shop every day, and other toys flew off the shelves and into the hands of excited children.

But not Thor. And not Tony. 

Until one day, the door opened and a sulky little boy name Loki came into the store. He didn’t even want to be there, he didn’t want a toy, he was mad and he wanted to go home. He looked at all the toys in the store, scowling at them all, frowning at everything he saw. He glared at the dumb, broken toys on the dusty shelf in the back, at the stupid robot that was probably broken, and at the metal warrior that didn’t do anything but stand there.

Nobody wanted those toys, certainly not Loki. He was just going to leave and go home and sulk.

But… something about that toy, the metal one with the hammer in his hand… Loki didn’t quite know why, but he grabbed that one and took it home.

Loki didn’t _like_ Thor, he didn’t even hardly play with him. Loki yelled at him sometimes when he was angry, and threw Thor across him room when he cried, and once even let the dog chew on his head.

And yet, on nights when Loki couldn’t sleep, when he was cold or overtired, he would sneak out of his bed on silent feet and find Thor in his toybox. The little metal warrior fit nicely in his hand, and Loki would take the toy to bed, and hold him while he closed his eyes. He always seemed to sleep better when he had Thor. Thor wasn’t scared of anything. Thor would protect him and keep him safe.

* * *

Christmas was over, and the storekeeper had taken the lights down from the windows. The wreath was gone from the door, and the garland was no longer hung on the polished wood counter.

Tony was all alone on the misfit shelf, and he had never known anything could be so lonely. He let his little mechanical head droop down, looking at his own metal feet, and did his best not to hear the sounds of the store, and the children that never looked at him.

When a little boy named Edwin saw Tony sitting on that shelf, all alone and sprinkled with dust, he couldn’t believe his eyes. That robot was the best robot in the whole store, the most incredible robot Edwin had ever seen. He thought it was a mistake, thought that it was a joke that there was a discount sticker on the little metal chest, but the shopkeeper assured him that it wasn’t.

With a giant, beaming grin on his face, Edwin lifted the robot down off the shelf, laughing in delight when the mechanical head looked up at him, and lights came on behind its eyes.

“I’m going to take you home with me,” Edwin told the robot happily. He had never seen something so wonderful.

Full of disbelief and wonder, Tony stared up into the little boy’s face, full of astonishment when he was carried out of the shop, leaving that misfit shelf behind forever.

And with that, all of the misfit toys found their homes.


End file.
